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24 Articles

PUPPY LOVE Holy cow! I just did something I’ve never done in my 63 years. I kissed the cover of your February 2021 issue! Thank you for an amazing magazine! Michelle Wolniewicz Alden, NY FOND FAREWELL Got the feels reading Betsy Folwell’s goodbye from @adklifemag (“The Wave Goodbye,” February). A fierce, muscular writer, editor and journalist, one of the best I know. Congrats, Betsy! David Sommerstein via Twitter IN THE CROSSHAIRS Larry Master’s “Camera Shy,” about martens in the February issue, brought back a memory. In the mid-1980s, as I was descending Allen Mountain, I took a break while waiting for the rest of my party. I saw a pine marten moving about in the spruces above me. Then I realized it was pursuing a red squirrel. I was amazed at its stealth. The squirrel jumped between several trees, never…

I hate nature.” He said it as we sat in a college classroom, our desks pushed into a circle. I had just explained that our semester would focus on reading and writing about the natural world. Nature, he said, had killed someone he knew. He immediately dropped my class. I would later learn that the person this student knew was 22-year-old Wesley Wamsganz, who on November 20, 2010, had left his job at a Lake Placid diner, walked—with just the clothes on his back—to the Adirondak Loj trailhead and continued into the mountains. That evening he was spotted near Avalanche Pass. Police found his Carhartt jacket, but Wamsganz was never seen again. In this magazine we celebrate the Adirondack Park because it’s a place like no other, where we’re awed, recharged and challenged…

Look to the Sky

In the cosmos, a terrestrial truism is reversed: darkness reveals, and light obscures. The Adirondacks’ relative lack of light pollution makes it a perfect place to observe International Dark Sky Week, April 5 to 12. Go to idsw.darksky.org for night-sky activities, to do a home-lighting assessment and to learn about the nocturnal lives of animals. The Adirondack Sky Center, in Tupper Lake, has suspended in-person stargazing activities due to COVID; check www.adirondackskycenter.org for updates and virtual programming.…

Look to the Sky

Peter Hornbeck (1943–2020)

Hornbeck boats have been ubiquitous on Adirondack waters—and in the pages of Adirondack Life—for three decades. In January, dozens of the red-striped canoes were strapped to vehicle roofs and paraded through the central Adirondacks in tribute to Olmstedville boatbuilder Peter Hornbeck, who died of a sudden heart attack the day after Christmas. An elementary teacher at Johnsburg Central School for 23 years, Hornbeck retired in 1992 and parlayed his canoe-building hobby into a successful business. He was also known as a talented watercolor painter and a staunch advocate for the Adirondack environment who loved spending time outdoors with friends and family—including his daughter, Leigh, who wrote fondly of “Growing Up Minerva” in the August 2020 issue of this magazine. In his obituary, his family wrote, “Honor Pete’s memory with a walk in…

Peter Hornbeck (1943–2020)

Decades ago Lyon Mountain was known for producing some of the purest iron ore in the world. Now the northern Adirondack community has another claim to fame, as home to the largest birch-sap and -syrup producer in the world. And not just the largest, but one of the best. Last year, Forest Farmers’ New Leaf Tree Syrups won first place at the World Birch Sap Festival, in St. Petersburg, Russia. (Yes, that’s a thing.) CEO Michael Farrell, who cofounded the business in 2016, was formerly the director of Uihlein Forest, Cornell University’s sugar maple research station in Lake Placid. His 10,000-acre operation—about 7,000 in the Adirondacks and another 3,000 in Vermont—looks beyond maple to sustainably harvest birch, beech and butternut sap as well. Its state-of-the-art steam evaporator, which produces 800 gallons…

The Old Man and the Loppet

It all started sometime the summer before last, when my son Nathan suggested he would come back East and we would both ski the Loppet. Held at the Nordic Center at Mount Van Hoevenberg, the Lake Placid Loppet is said to be one of the hardest distance cross-country-ski races in the country. I said something like, “Sure, good idea,” and thought nothing of it. Until, while in Colorado over Christmas, he told me the date of the race and reminded me that I said I would do it. One of those “Remember, you said, Dad?” conversations. I was stuck. I knew enough about distance endurance events (think 90-mile canoe races) to know I had better train for this thing. After a week of high-altitude and out-of-breath skiing in Colorado and some…

The Old Man and the Loppet

Two blazes, six decades apart, helped shape the center of Westport into what we see today. Many of the town’s oldest buildings were built during the early 19th century on a bluff that rose sharply from Lake Champlain and then leveled off, allowing for neat rows of structures along what became Main Street. One of the first was a house for John Halstead at the southeast corner of Main and Washington, on the site of today’s Ballard Park. Another was a store erected by Charles Hatch across Washington from the Halstead home. Over the next few decades, several shops were built on the east side of Main, north of Hatch’s store. More went up on the west side, opposite the Halstead family home, along with a Baptist church. Many, though not all,…

HUNTING WITH COY-WOLVES

In November 2007, I headed deep into the McKenzie Mountain Wilderness, using the last few hours of daylight to hunt. I’d hunted in these woods before, during the same month, only to find myself in knee-deep snow. But today it was in the mid-40s and I didn’t need gloves or a hat. As I left the cabin my wife reminded me that she was making chili for dinner and not to be late. Since I was headed west, the sun appeared bright for the time of day. But I really didn’t know the time because I had gotten out of the habit of wearing my old mechanical diver’s watch. Since I almost always had my cell phone, I used it as my timepiece. But since there was no cell service at…

HUNTING WITH COY-WOLVES

THE LEGEND OF PINPIN

I choose to believe it was him. The rest of the details are foggy, but what I remember clearly is his backpack pulling away from us down the trail. Between the ages of 12 and 17 I spent my summers working my way to becoming an Adirondack 46er. My mother had done it before me and joined me for many of the hikes, including my last, Whiteface. At the summit she presented me with my own 46er T-shirt. She’d refused to let me wear hers, insisting I had to earn it before I could put one on. Not counting Cascade, which I suspect every able-bodied kid has climbed, my first 46ers were on a sixth-grade camping trip, where a few experienced preteen hikers and I chose to climb Gothics, Armstrong and Lower…

CONQUERING AZURE MOUNTAIN

Mike’s topless Jeep rattled down the Blue Mountain Road in slow motion. He and I scanned the densely forested shoulder for any sign that the directions our grandmother had given us were based in reality. “Well, it’s been decades since your grandfather and I climbed it,” she had recalled an hour earlier, at our camp on Lake Ozonia, “but I seem to remember that once you reach the bathtub, you pull over. That’s where you’ll find the trail to the top of Azure.” My brother was older and perhaps had more trust in Granny. As the youngest sibling and frequent butt of the family’s practical jokes, I was more skeptical. We’re looking for a bathtub in the woods? Nevertheless, I was excited: home from college for a long fall weekend in 1987, and…

STICKING IT OUT ON CEDAR RIVER FLOW

In September 2015, my brother Will and I decided to take a shot at camping on Cedar River Flow, in the Moose River Plains Complex. We collected dry-bags, cooking utensils, sleeping bags and new canoe paddles. We decided to rely on our childhood tent for accommodations. We were confident its rain tarp would combat any light showers forecast that weekend. We seized the moment. We put in near Wakely Dam in the northwest corner of the lake. Paddling against the current, we zigzagged three miles across Cedar River Flow. We counted only two other campers on kayaks as we made our way to our campsite. Following the guidebooks like the Boy Scouts we never were, we pitched our tent near shore, under the cover of some birches, and even dug a…

THE DEADLY DERECHO

The scenery at Lake Lila—pristine waters and old growth forest—can take your breath away. On July 15, 1995, one of Lila’s trees nearly killed us, felled by a derecho: an intense, destructive storm of straight-line winds. I was canoe camping with two 11-year-olds, my daughter Erin and my niece Elizabeth. Paddling in, we passed our favorite campsite. The girls had named it “Blueberry Point” for the berry bushes that sweetened our breakfast flapjacks. Unfortunately, it was occupied. The couple there waved as we floated by. We found another site near a tree topped by an osprey nest. The weather was blazing hot. After a cooling evening swim, we flipped our canoe over at the shore and turned in. Raindrops began spattering the tent fly sometime before dawn. I closed the tent and…

THE DEADLY DERECHO

COSMIC SHOW-STOPPER

My father’s career fashioned our lives. He was sometimes not home for months, working in places as diverse as the deserts of New Mexico or the Mount Washington Observatory, in New Hampshire. We moved at least every five years, so our surroundings were temporary; you either loved it or hated it. I was 10 when we moved from the idyllic coast of southern Massachusetts to the Adirondacks. The forest behind our Wilmington home was unbroken for miles, the abandoned work roads bordered by patches of wildflowers. My sisters and I explored these roads extensively. There were red trilliums, pink lady’s slippers, white star flowers, yellow trout lilies, mysterious jack-in-the-pulpits, rich yellow buttercups and ghostlike Indian pipes, all tucked in along the trail’s edges. And then there was Whiteface Mountain. In the summer I…

COSMIC SHOW-STOPPER

It was the summer of 1988 and I was home for a short leave from the military. The summer had been hot and dry. During the week, my brother and I discussed what we could do “up north” on the coming Saturday, and in the course of our conversation we both recalled a postcard we had seen at a little store near Piseco Lake, not far from our uncle’s rustic log cabin. The picture on the postcard displayed a magnificently tall, cascading waterfall. When we had asked the store clerk about it, he told us that it was T-Lake Falls, and that the trailhead was just down the road. That picture had made a lasting impression on both of us, so we decided to go find T-Lake Falls. It had been…

MAKING A BEELINE

My family hiked back to our car after spending three days at Flowed Lands. We were tired. A thin film of DEET greased our skin, the Mountain House packets only filled our stomachs halfway, and two nights of sleeping in lean-tos made our hips ache. My brother, Nathan, led us down the trail. I followed next, trying to keep time with his mud-streaked calves as he hopped from rock to rock. Mom and Dad trudged behind, their packs more of a burden than ours. Then, with a speed that can only come from the frontal lobes of nine- and 12-year-olds, Nathan and I began to run. Mom and Dad, knowing they couldn’t keep up, or simply happy for the time alone, called after us to blow our whistles to deter bears. We were…

ACCORDING TO THE CALENDAR, APRIL 29 is squarely in the middle of spring. In the Adirondacks, it’s not always so straightforward, as photographer and avid hiker Nancie Battaglia, whose birthday falls on that fickle-weather date, can tell you. For at least 25 years, Battaglia and pals have marked the occasion with an early-season hike through rain, snow, sunshine—or whatever else fate throws their way. “It started pretty small and has gotten bigger and turned into a tradition, rite of spring, and welcome outing after a long winter,” Battaglia says. “One rather memorable year was 2018, when the hike was quite carefully planned to be Buck Mountain in Lake George,” she recalls. When the day dawned to four inches of snow at her Lake Placid home and a forecast for cold rain…

Peak Performers

WINNERS OF OUR ANNUAL PHOTOGRAPHY CONTEST Tony Oehler snapped this grand-prize winner at one of his favorite places, the Moose Pond lean-to at the northern end of the Northville–Lake Placid Trail. He visits often—for both pleasure and as a caretaker for Adirondack Mountain Club’s Adopt a Lean-to program—but this visit was special. It was the first time he’d introduced the spot to his kids, 16-year-old Jackson and nine-year-old Sophia. “They loved it,” he says. And after he’d started the campfire and began tidying up their quarters for the night, he turned and saw Jackson and Sophia’s silhouettes against the sunset. As he captured the moment, he remembers thinking, This is what it’s all about. “They won’t be children forever,” he says. “It’s a good memory.” A beautiful one, too. Congratulations to all…

Peak Performers

The Lonesome Road

It was not until I moved to Huletts Landing in 2016 and started exploring beyond my sweet little hamlet that I came to love driving Route 9. The highway twists and turns and shows the evolution of tourism. What was once the main thoroughfare through the eastern Adirondacks lost much of its traffic after the Northway was finished in 1967, funneling visitors away from the roadside mom and pops. Today, so many of those businesses are blending back into woods. Nature reclaims what we built. This fall, amid the coronavirus pandemic, my hamlet has seen its own shift as people flee densely populated areas to this quiet, remote community. Businesses and homes that were for sale or abandoned are now being reinvigorated. But how long will it last? See more of Carrie Marie…

The Lonesome Road

Gone But Not Forgotten

THE LEADS HAVE ALL ENDED THE SAME—evaporating like smoke against a landscape that holds the promise of beauty and the threat of violent indifference for those who cross its threshold. Douglas Legg would be 58 years old this year. He might have had children and, by now, grandchildren. His face, peering mischievously from old photographs, promises to savor life. His eyes have a knowing cast that makes you think he could find his way out of just about anything he encountered. Instead, 50 years ago on July 10, Legg disappeared from a remote, rugged trail on the Santanoni Estate near Newcomb. No trace of him has ever been found. Legg was eight years old—a month shy of nine. A budding outdoorsman on a brief visit to the family-owned compound, he had followed…

Gone But Not Forgotten

Rural Electrifification

Lonnie Monroe was in his early eighties and slowing down by the time he sat for these recordings. He lived out along the Saranac in a nice old clapboard house surrounded by piles of salvaged metal roofing, barn siding, two-by-fours and random boards, and a corral containing two Morgan bay horses. He drove a Power Wagon he’d assembled from scavenged parts, and always wore nattily pressed green slacks, a khaki work shirt, and a rakish Moose River hat. On those afternoons, we sat at the table in the bar where the old people usually kept to themselves or received the entreaties and inquiries of the young—new arrivals mostly, who were searching (as I was) for the distilled human essence of the place they had adopted and idealized. Usually they sat…

Rural Electrifification

Fine Dining & Lodging

BIG MOOSE LAKE, EAGLE BAY, NY 13331 The Waldheim. Seventeen cottages with fireplaces overlooking scenic Big Moose Lake. Established in 1904, The Waldheim has changed little since. Rates include three delicious meals served daily in a central dining room. Unstructured opportunities allow guests to relax, recreate or be with family. 315-357-2353. www.thewaldheim.com. INDIAN LAKE, NY 12842 Timberlock. A rustic resort that enables its guests to connect to the magnificent lakeside setting and focus on time with family and friends, without the distractions of today’s fast-paced life. One of the oldest summer family resorts in the Adirondacks, surrounded in all directions by miles of NYS Forest Preserve. Rates include private cabin, three hearty, healthful meals a day plus a host of activities. 518-648-5494. www.timberlock.com. PEASLEEVILLE, NY 12985 Cozy Adirondack Cabin. Escape to a little piece of…

I got into backwoods trout fishing decades ago, after reading an article in a national outdoors magazine about a couple of state biologists who hiked into a remote pond in what is now the Siamese Ponds Wilderness Area. The author told of map-and-compass bushwhacking adventures and encounters with beavers, bears and huge brook trout. One of the story’s photos showed a trout too big to fit in a large frying pan. That was challenge enough for me. Over the years since, I’ve been to many remote ponds and experienced the same kinds of things, many times over. A trip I’ll never forget was to a Warren County pond. It was a fairly tough one, uphill most of the way, with hordes of blackflies getting into my eyes and ears and up…

In the spring of 1966, my KARMA fraternity brother Jeff Smith and I thought we had a good idea—an eight-hour spring break motorcycle trip from Clarkson Tech in Potsdam, where we were senior engineering students, through the Adirondacks to Long Island. Jeff had sold his motorcycle to buy an engagement ring, so we would be riding tandem on my BSA Lightning Rocket. Our planning may have rested somewhere between sparse and nonexistent, but having youthful optimism, we were undeterred. The morning of the trip dawned cloudy and drizzly, and we only made it about a mile out of town before we were soaked. We turned around and appropriated all the dry clothes and plastic bags we could to cover our legs. We once again plunged into our adventure. As we gained elevation…

Rob Picotte, of Diamond Point, was stunned when he saw this stump by a pond in the town of Bolton. Picotte is a skier, hiker and long-distance runner who is often in the woods—beaver lodges and the surrounding tree carnage are a common sight along the pond-strewn terrain he sometimes explores. But this spiral was something new. “I’d never seen anything like it,” he said. Ben Goldfarb, author of Eager: The Surprising, Secret Life of Beavers and Why They Matter, agrees. When he saw Picotte’s snapshot, he said, “What a beautiful piece of work. I’ve seen some elaborate chewing patterns in my day, but never such a perfect spiral.” Beavers (Castor canadensis), according to Goldfarb, “whittle with their incisors—two upper, two lower.… These peerless cutting tools are self-sharpening: The outer surface of…

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